


The Elegant Solution

by Magicofisis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-08
Updated: 2007-03-08
Packaged: 2018-10-27 18:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10814442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magicofisis/pseuds/Magicofisis
Summary: Harry's having girl trouble of the type you don't speak about in polite company — perhaps the solution has been there all along.





	The Elegant Solution

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: And my contribution to [](http://community.livejournal.com/hpvalensmut/profile)[**hpvalensmut**](http://community.livejournal.com/hpvalensmut/) was written for [](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://shocolate.livejournal.com/)**shocolate** ,   


* * *

So I've really got myself into a bind this time. Well, no, not the sort of bind that I managed to squirm out of from Voldemort all those times. Those were truly life or death situations, and it was pure instinct to do what I had to do to survive. This bind is not quite so scary, but seems ten times worse. No amount of Gryffindor courage can help me.

It all started, I suppose, as soon as the war ended. I'd killed Voldemort with Ron and Hermione's help, and I'm ashamed to admit that I was pretty damn cocky when I rushed back to the Burrow afterwards to claim my girl. Because that's the way these things work: you slay the bad guy and get the girl.

Actually, I was a bit surprised that she was still waiting for me, seeing as how it had taken two whole years after Dumbledore's death to track down and destroy all the bits of Voldemort's soul. But she seemed glad to see me, and I was relieved to be back at the Burrow and moving in with my favorite family in the whole world.

The monster in my chest must have grown up a bit, because I never got that queasy feeling around Ginny anymore – and I was quite glad to be over it. It was relaxing to be with her because she never wanted to hear about all the war stuff and talk about Ministry politics the way my other friends did. She seemed to want to kiss me all the time, though, so much so that she reminded me of Lavender Brown, except I'd never tell her that because I've seen just how effective she is with that Bat Bogey Hex.

So, anyway, Ginny and I kissed a lot, and it wasn't long before she announced she was ready to go all the way. No, I didn't ask 'all the way where?', but it was on the tip of my tongue for a moment before I cottoned on. Merlin's balls, she wanted to have sex!

Well, of course I'd thought about it; I'm nineteen, after all. But I'd only thought about it in the abstract, not with a particular person – not with her. I suppose that's because I'd spent so much time with Ron, and it felt funny to be with him while thinking _those_ kinds of thoughts about his sister. So instead, I just thought about how I would feel if, you know, things were done to me – no faces, no specifics. And it has always worked as a fantasy to help me wank, let me assure you.

Ginny's a bit like her mother, you know? Once she gets something in her head, there's no stopping her. So before I even had a chance to get used to the idea, I found myself in her bed, both of us naked under the covers. And I was absolutely not aroused. No, not even a hint of hardness there. I could have been listening to a Ministry speech for all that I felt. And you have no idea how humiliating this was.

Sometimes I wish it were possible to _Obliviate_ myself, because whenever I remember Ginny saying, "It's all right, Harry. You're just nervous," I want to curl up and die. Here she'd been waiting for years for me to finish up my business with Voldemort so we could be lovers, and I couldn't even get it up for her.

Right. So we tried to get past it – we waited a little while for me to get used to being with her again – but we attempted it twice more with the same result. I tried to explain that it wasn't that I didn't find her attractive, and that maybe one of the hundred hexes I'd survived in the past year just made it difficult to, er, perform, but the truth was, I didn't believe it any more than she did. Even after I'd returned to her, I still never seemed to fantasize about Ginny – pale skin and freckles sometimes, but never about us 'doing it'. Hell, for all I knew, my fantasies could have been about any one of her brothers instead of her. And I didn't seem to have any trouble getting it up when I was alone. So I could only conclude that it must be her.

Things deteriorated rapidly after that. It's not that Ginny and I had any big blowout fight. It's just that we drifted back to being pals – the same way we'd always been before that wonderful three weeks in June two years ago. I still cared about her, but I just couldn't be her boyfriend. And, well, obviously not her lover either. We just sort of fizzled out. When Ron and I got a flat together and moved out of the Burrow, I hugged Ginny goodbye like I did after Bill and Fleur's wedding. And I knew we'd never be a couple again.

But this left me in an awkward situation. Ron wanted to know what was going on with me and Ginny, and I couldn't tell him. What was I supposed to say? 'Sorry, Ron, but we called it quits after I wasn't able to fuck your sister.' I'd never be able to say that and live to tell about it. So I just shrugged and said it was over.

Except that I really needed to talk to someone to figure out why I hadn't been able to make it with Ginny. Because she's so pretty, so wonderful and I'm still very fond of her. Maybe it was just nerves like she said. It sure would have been nice to be able to talk to my best mate and see if he'd ever had a similar problem.

I pondered the idea of discussing it with Hermione. After about fifteen seconds, I rejected that notion as well. While I was certain she'd have at least a dozen suggestions and theories, it wasn't a topic that she'd be comfortable discussing. She definitely had a biased opinion.

You see, she and Ron had broken up after dating for about a year because Ron was, understandably, anxious to have sex and Hermione refused. I don't want to imply that there's anything wrong with waiting to get married before having sex, but it couldn't have been more obvious after talking to both Ron and Hermione separately that they were miles apart from reaching a compromise on the issue. It's sort of weird that it's nearly the opposite of what happened with me and Ginny.

So, I knew Hermione's stand on the issue: she might be able to tell me a theory or two about why I was unable to have sex with Ginny, but there would be a hefty morality lecture to go with it that would have nothing to do with me and Ginny and everything to do with her and Ron. Frankly, I'd rather suffer impotence than be subjected to that.

The only solution I could think of was to find some other girl to have sex with – someone attractive, but with whom I had no history – to see if it was just Ginny or all girls that failed to arouse me. Of course, I was total rubbish with women and I had no idea of how to go about getting one to have sex with me. Fortunately, since I was no longer dating his sister, this was something I could talk to Ron about.

I'd noticed even before we moved back into the Burrow that Ron had been slipping out at night, presumably to meet up with a girl. I'd asked if he had a girlfriend, and he vehemently denied it. When I pressed the issue, he said I'd be better off not knowing because it might make things awkward between me and Hermione if she asked about him seeing other people, and then he quickly changed the subject. I figured he'd tell me in good time, but then I killed Voldemort, got back together with Ginny and that whole thing.

Now that we shared a flat, I knew he went out with girls occasionally, because we'd go out to the pub sometimes and he'd announce that he really needed to get hooked up with someone and he'd Disapparate; I wouldn't see him again until the next day. But he never brought anyone home to the flat, and I was grateful for it. I just knew he had more experience than me. Well of course he did – every one I knew had more experience than I did, except maybe Hermione.

"I think I want to try to hook up with someone tonight," I said casually as we stood side-by-side looking at ourselves in the bathroom mirror. We had plans to meet Seamus and Dean, so I was attempting to do something to make my hair behave somewhat normally.

Ron smiled as he spat his toothpaste into the sink. He rinsed his mouth and said, "About time. Have you got anyone in mind?"

It hadn't occurred to me to think about who I wanted in advance. "Um, no. I don't really… well, the truth is that I've never actually brought home anyone before. I was hoping you could give me some pointers."

"You don't need advice from me, Harry. The way you look, you could have anyone you want, male or female, just for the asking. Plus, it doesn't hurt that you're famous and you've got about a million Galleons," he smirked.

"I don't! Geez, Ron, I hate it when you say stuff like that."

"Well you'd better get used to it. Once the Romilda Vanes of the world find out you're on the market, they'll be swarming all over you."

I couldn't stand it. "Shut it – I'm gonna be sick now. Are you taking the piss, or do they really do that?"

Ron shrugged. "They do it to me, and everyone knows I don't have an inheritance."

As I brushed my teeth, Ron left the bathroom. Was it really going to be like that? Maybe I'd see someone I knew and already liked. But wait a minute: if I still had this…sex problem, she'd tell her friends and I'd become the laughingstock of the Wizarding World. On the other hand, I couldn't remain a virgin for my whole life. Could I?

When we got to the pub, Ron wasted no time telling Dean and Seamus that my goal for the night was to get some action. Thankfully, he didn't tell them I was still a virgin, although I'm not entirely sure he knew that. It was so humiliating every time a group of witches walked by and stared at me – Seamus was particularly obnoxious, wolf whistling in the background.

Then I saw her. Susan Bones. I'd hardly spoken to Susan since we were in the D.A. together about a million years ago. But she was pretty and nice. And as a Hufflepuff, she probably didn't have any scores to settle with me, so if I made a total fool of myself, she could potentially keep it discreet. Maybe.

I summoned my courage and walked over to a table where she was sitting with her girlfriends. I couldn't miss the giggles that came from the other girls when I said hello and asked how she'd been. Susan was so friendly. She stood up and gave me a warm hug.

"I was just going to the bar to get another drink," she said. "Care to join me?"

My heart leapt – she might actually be interested. I bought us drinks and we sat at a table by ourselves. Susan was easy to talk to, and we had a lot to catch up on. Occasionally I glanced over at Dean and Seamus (Ron had long since disappeared), and they would make rude gestures trying to encourage me to get on with it.

"Susan," I said, trying to be suave and feeling anything but, "I'd like to get to know you better. Would you like to come over to my flat?"

Her eyes glistened – the idea must have pleased her. "Sure, Harry. Just let me tell my friends where I’m going."

I stood nervously watching Susan. I was really going to do this, then: bring home a virtual stranger. She hurried back to me, and Seamus gave me the thumbs up just before I side-along Apparated us to my flat.

What happened next is still too painful for me to talk about. Let's just say that Ginny isn't the only one who knows about my 'problem'. Lucky for me, Susan couldn't have been nicer about it, and I think it helped that I had my cover story about war injuries all thought out and ready to go, just in case. But yeah, she left after a couple hours and I was still a virgin.

Over the next two days, I alternated between brooding about it and trying to erase the experience from my mind. Damn it – what did this mean? Who ever heard of a nineteen year old bloke who couldn't have sex with attractive women? It was… unnatural. Maybe I really was the freak that Aunt Petunia always claimed I was.

Ron must have sensed that something was wrong, because he kept badgering me to tell him details about what happened with Susan. It was too humiliating to tell him the truth, so I lied and said she turned me down. He tried to cheer me up after that and suggested we go out again on Friday.

Even though I wore my best jeans and the nice tan shirt that Hermione gave me for Christmas, there was no way I was going to pull another girl that night. I'd already humiliated myself enough for a lifetime. I was ready to get drunk and give in to eternal bachelorhood.

Seamus, Neville and Terry Boot were at the pub, and as we sat down at their table, I glanced around. Thankfully, Susan was nowhere in sight. Seamus immediately started asking for the sordid details of my sex life, and I refused to talk about it. Neville was happy to oblige by talking about his sex life (yes, even Neville was getting more than me) and it put Seamus off for a while.

Ron left after his third pint, saying he had to go and not to wait up for him. As I watched him walk away, I mused, "Where do you think he goes when he leaves us like this?"

Neville snickered, Terry smiled and Seamus raised an incredulous eyebrow. "Y'mean you really don't know?"

I blushed a bit. "Well, I just assume he's off to find a girl…" I watched the three of them exchange amused glances. "Why? Does he have a girlfriend he hasn't told me about?"

Neville was taking a drink as I spoke and he managed to spit it all over the table. Seamus grimaced.

"Hate to break this to you, mate," said Terry, "but I think he's got about a hundred. Witches and wizards both. I heard rumors about a llama, too, but I think that was someone taking the mickey."

My jaw dropped open. I was utterly speechless.

"He's very popular," Neville said quietly. "And quite skillful." He blushed up to his eyebrows. "From what I've heard, I mean."

"He's a slut," said Seamus with a grin. "It's fascinating to watch him in action, though." He turned to Harry and poked him on the shoulder. "How is it that you live with the bloke and don't know anything about this? Haven't you noticed that he hardly ever sleeps in his own bed?

I couldn't answer – my head was still reeling. Witches _and_ wizards? Ron? Hell, I was a fucking virgin and he was fucking everyone in sight. Seamus had a point – how could I not have noticed?

"I, er… I asked him about it, and he said I was better off not knowing. I thought it was because I'm still close with Hermione, but I suppose he just didn't want to tell me."

Suddenly, I wanted to go home. My best mate had this whole secret life, and I felt bewildered and betrayed since he’d never mentioned a single word to me about it. I made some lame excuse and left as soon as I could.

When I got home, I summoned a beer from the fridge and curled up on the sofa to brood. I wasn't usually one for introspection, but I'd had quite a lot of beer and was feeling very sorry for myself. I was more than put out that Ron hadn't confided in me. It's not like I would have thought any less of him – hell, Seamus seemed to think it was impressive. And maybe if he'd been honest, I wouldn't have been so reluctant to tell him about my…my… troubles in that area. And how come he hadn't told me he liked blokes, too. He had me thinking he was a girls-only kind of guy. He'd told Neville, but he hadn't told me. Hell, he'd fucked Neville, but he hadn't fucked… me.

My own thoughts echoed in my head. Maybe _that's_ why I was so angry. I mean, we had plenty of secrets from each other: I know I've always had a good reason for not telling him stuff, and I'm sure he had a good reason for keeping this from me. If secret-keeping was really the problem, then I was definitely over-reacting.

Maybe it was because of all the self-doubt I'd had lately, or perhaps it was the beer, but I was soon convinced that the real reason I was hurt was because Ron wanted every one else but me. What was wrong with me? Did he find me so repulsive that I couldn't even meet his (apparently) low standards?

I was still sitting there when Ron Apparated in. He didn't notice me for quite a while, and I didn't speak. I watched with eagle eyes as he pulled off his jumper and threw it over the back of a chair. He rubbed at a mark on his neck – probably a love bite, although I couldn't see properly because the candles had long since burned down to the sconces. He glanced down the hall towards my bedroom and whispered, "Harry, Harry, Harry," under his breath.

"Hello, Ron," I said quietly.

I must have startled him because his wand clattered to the floor and he shouted my name, saying, "Don't do that!"

He turned towards me, and I could see the outline of his nipples on his bare chest and make out the trail of auburn hair that crossed his chest and disappeared behind his jeans. My eyes were riveted to him, as if seeing him for the first time, which in a way, I was. I was seeing him not as my best mate of eight years, but as a sexual being. A feeling rose in my chest – like a monster that had a life of its own. I'd felt that way before, years ago, with Ginny. I wanted him.

Of course, Ron was a little bit uncomfortable as I stared at him. "You all right, Harry? Is something wrong?"

The chest monster then moved to my brain and commandeered my voice. "Who was it tonight, Ron?" I spat.

"What?"

"Who did you fuck tonight, Ron? Was it a witch or a wizard? Did you even know their name?"

Ron looked at me, blinking. I'd never asked about one of his 'dates' before, and he glared suspiciously as he answered, "Wizard. A bloke named Andrew." He paused for a moment. "I didn't think you knew, and I figured if you knew you wouldn't care."

"Why wouldn't I care?" I asked, in a voice that was much higher than I would have liked. "You have this whole secret life that you've been hiding from me – that I'm not allowed to be a part of." I leapt from the sofa, knocking over beer bottles as I went, and stormed down the hallway to my bedroom. I slammed the door behind me and dived into my bed.

♥ ♥ ♥

So here I am, hiding from my best mate, who I'm apparently in love with, having humiliated myself once again. He's knocked five or six times, but I've been pretending to be asleep. It's been a couple hours, though, since he's knocked, and I really have to take a leak, so I decide to risk it and leave my room.

I sneakily sneak to the bathroom and relieve myself – God, I've got to stop drinking so much – and I'm just zipping my jeans when the door flies open. Ron comes in and sees me and we both scream, and then laugh and then apologize.

"It was open, I didn't realize—"

"Must not have shut it all the way," I say, trying not to be obvious as my eyes scan the length of his body, which is clad only in Chudley Cannon boxers. It's hard not to notice that he has several love bites or the way his bright red hair clings to his neck in stark contrast to his pale, freckled skin.

I go to leave, and he steps to the side to block my way. I feel a hand grab each of my bare arms and I blush as I feel his warm breath against my cheek.

"Don't leave," he says. "You ran off before and I never had a chance to apologize. I'm sorry."

His blue eyes are boring into mine, and wouldn't it just figure that the erection that's been eluding me for weeks is now being cheered on by the damn chest monster. Traitor. I'm terrified that he'll notice and reject me to my face, which would be even more humiliating than simply being passed over. I realize I have to say anything that will get me out of that bathroom and into the safety of my bedroom right now.

"Don't worry about it," I mutter. "I was out of line. Forget I said anything." I try to pull away, but he doesn't let go.

"No, I have to say this. The reason I didn't tell you I was, um, seeing people is that Hermione told me you were a prude like her, and I didn't want to offend you."

I laugh in spite of my embarrassment. "Me? A prude? Where'd she get an idea like that? I make it a point never to talk about sex to Hermione."

Ron blushes, which only makes him that much more appealing. My cock is straining against my jeans, and I desperately keep eye contact with Ron so that he won't look down. "She said she'd talked to Ginny, who said that you and she never did it and that you were still a virgin. Seemed quite anxious to throw my sister's morality in my face."

"Fuck," I gasp. The only thing more embarrassing than your promiscuous best friend finding out about your virginity is to have him find out about it from his sister via his ex-girlfriend. I swallow hard. "Did she, er, say anything else about my sex life?" Oh please, God, no, I chant to myself.

"Only that the quest had been hard on you and it would be a really good idea if I didn't flaunt my, um, activities in front of you in case you're still recovering."

I stare into his eyes. He's not laughing – he seems very sincere. I reckon it means that Ginny told Hermione about what happened, but Hermione hasn't told Ron. God, I love that girl.

He stands there, holding my arms, staring into my eyes, looking like pure sex on legs, and then he does the one thing that I can never resist. He smiles.

Without stopping to think that I'm about to go where hundreds have gone before me, I kiss him. A deep, passionate kiss that seems to last for at least an hour. And, oh God, I want him so bad I can't think straight.

I forget about not wanting him to notice how hard I am when I feel his cock digging into my hip. He kisses me back, seeming to want it just as much as I do. He pushes me back to the tiled wall and presses himself against me, and I'm just about to come in my pants.

"Harry, I never knew," he whispers into my ear as his lips graze my neck. "I thought you only liked girls."

"Me too," I say, arching into his touch as his hands slide under my shirt.

He hesitates, stepping back a few inches and pulling away from me. I'm hoping I haven't offended him.

"I need to shower," he says. "That's why I came in here."

"Okay," I say awkwardly. I don't know what I've done, but he looks uncomfortable and I feel like an idiot for thinking he might want to fool around with me. I drop my gaze and it lands on one of the love bites, and immediately I understand. He doesn't want to be with me when he's just been with – what's his name – Andrew. "I could wait," I offer.

Ron smiles at me again, a broad grin from ear to ear. "Or you could help," he says with enthusiasm.

Ron can be like his mother sometimes, too, and before I know what's happening, we're naked in the shower together. Only I'm so hard that I'm about to come just from the sight of his body, his excitement just as obvious as mine.

He pulls my body against his, trapping my cock between us. Then I feel his hands slowly gliding down my back, wet with spray from the shower. When he grabs one arse cheek in each hand and pulls me against him, thrusting his hips a few times, I can't hold back anymore and I'm coming, pulsing against him while my vision blurs.

"I knew you'd be beautiful," he says softly as he guides my lips to his.

We haven't even been in the shower for a minute and I've already come. Amazingly, the monster in my chest has taken up residence in my cock and he wants feeding again. First things first, though. I reach for the soap and spread the lather everywhere on Ron's body that I can reach. He's still rock hard and I stroke his cock with a soap-slick hand. When he moans, my cock jerks to attention. Ron pushes my hand away.

"I'm gonna need that in a minute," he says. "That is, if you'll let me inside you."

Our eyes meet, all questions wordlessly asked and answered. I have a new sense of urgency as I rinse the soap from his back. We stumble, trying to grope and kiss and rinse and kiss some more, and then we laugh at our own awkwardness. I tell him to hold still, and then I use the little bit of wandless magic I know to heal the love bites on his neck and shoulder. A clean start for both of us, I figure.

I'm not really sure how we make it from the shower to the bed without falling and killing ourselves, but we're suddenly there and Ron rolls me onto my back.

"Is this still okay?" he says, looking unsure again.

"Brilliant." I smile at him, trying to be reassuring, because I know in my heart that this is what I've been missing all along. The faceless fantasies with red hair and freckles couldn’t be clearer to me now. It's always been Ron.

He tries to warn me before he enters me, and I don't listen, and then it's burning like hell, but then it isn't. I try to speak, but the words only come out as monosyllabic moans in perfect rhythm with his thrusting. He's brushing my prostate and I don't last long, and when I hear Ron's breathing speed up, I open my eyes to watch his face as he empties himself into me. Gorgeous, I think, but I still can't speak. I remember Neville's words, 'He's quite skillful.' Quite.

We don't say anything for the longest time. It doesn't seem like there are any words to describe my feelings. Somehow I don't think this is only about sex – I mean, it feels nice and everything, but the way his fingers brush lightly against my skin, our hearts both beating rapidly and, God, his irresistible smile… that's what I'm savoring at this moment.

Neither of us have slept all night, and he's just buggered me senseless, so I figure I have about thirty more seconds of consciousness. "It's brilliant that you were my first," I murmur, not realizing just how sappy my words sound until it's too late to take them back.

Ron shifts so that I can see his face. "It'll be even more brilliant," he says, "if you'll be my last."


End file.
